


Golden Cord

by IambicKentameter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: College AU, Jojen is a vulgar boy, M/M, Meera is a big gay lesbian and I love her, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IambicKentameter/pseuds/IambicKentameter
Summary: Soulmarks are great and all, but when one has a fairly common phrase etched on their arm, like Jojen Reed does, that whole 'butterflies in the stomach, clenching of the chest' thing that happens when you finally meet them sure does come in handy.Too bad Jojen's getting more and more used not feeling that way.





	Golden Cord

As the theory goes, the moment you meet your soulmate, a golden cord is ignited between you. You can feel them the same way you can hear underwater, dull and muffled, but present all the same. When they’re physically closer, it gets stronger, and one can almost feel the proverbial tug on one's proverbial heartstrings. 

This is why it’s usually easy to determine when one has found one’s soulmate, and it makes it easier when one has a very general phrase inked on their skin, a phrase that one hears maybe a little too often.

Jojen got his hopes up constantly, only to be readily let down when the phrase ‘are you okay’ wasn’t immediately followed by a tightness in his chest or a fluttering in his stomach or whatever it was that triggered the Golden Cord.

He groaned and let his head fall onto his desk, only to have his sister drag his head back up by his hair. 

“Stop doing that.”

He peered up at her, his annoyance clear. “Stop pulling my hair.”

She let him go and sat in the desk beside him while their fellow students filed into class. “What happened?”

He glanced around nervously before leaning in. “I had another seizure today.” He said, his voice lowered.

“Which class?”

“White Collar Crime.”

She raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

“Yeah, somebody said it.” He glanced inadvertently at his upper arm, where the words ‘are you okay?’ were scrawled in the chicken scratch of his unknown soulmate.

“And they weren’t…?”

“Of course they weren’t, Meera.” He snapped. “If they were, I would have made an excuse to spend more time with them and I wouldn’t be in fucking Medieval right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “I bet they weren’t even cute.”

Jojen shrugged. “She was kinda cute.”

“Well there you go, she was a she. No use getting upset about a potential soulmate if she was a she.” Meera leveled him with a knowing smirk.

“You know I like girls too, right?” Jojen pursed his lips in a muted scowl.

“Yeah, but girls are like Indian food for you.”

He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. “ _ What?” _

“You know, you like Indian food. Hell, we had some Tiki Masala last week. But if I wanted-”

“It’s  _ Tikka _ Masala.” He corrected flippantly.

“Don’t be a smart ass. If I wanted to eat Indian food tonight, what would you say?”

Jojen shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t feel like it?”

“Exactly. Girls are like Indian food for you.”

He took a moment to mull over her analogy. “Okay, I could see that. But if my soulmate was a woman, I’m sure I’d be fine with eating Indian food every night, or whatever.”

“But I’m saying that because you don’t want to eat Indian food every night, your soulmate probably isn’t a girl.”

He shrugged and nodded. “Okay, it’s a valid line of thinking. What about you?”

Meera’s eyes caught sight of something, or more likely some _ one _ over Jojen’s shoulders. “Girls are like pizza.”

Jojen rolled his eyes and faced forward in class, ignoring his horndog of a sister. “Yara Greyjoy was a horrible influence on you.”

“Yara Greyjoy is my  _ role model, _ thank you very much.”

“Your statement and mine are not mutually exclusive.” He got out of his desk, grimacing. “I need water. Meera, when I-”

  
  
  


He woke up without finishing that sentence, a weird flavor in his mouth and his head reeling. His view of the ceiling was only interrupted by a bright pair of warm blue eyes and a messy mop of brown hair.

He blinked slowly, trying to bring these details about this person into focus, and he opened his mouth to speak, but it was too dry and hoarse to try just yet.

The head shook its head and shushed him. “Are you okay?”

His initial reaction was to roll his eyes. Yet another false-hope soulmate situation. He licked his lips and cleared the mucus-bubble at the back of his throat. “Fuckin’... shit.”

There were some scattered giggles from around him, but they all faded away within a millisecond. At first he thought he was going to pass out, or maybe even have another seizure, making it a whopping third time that day, but nothing of the sort happened.

His heart clenched.

Everything came into perspective then, as if he were putting on a pair of glasses he’d needed all his life. 

And yeah, the guy who’s lap his head was still in was  _ very cute _ . “H... Hey.”

He shushed him again. “Your sister said this is your second one today.”

“Yeah.”

“The paramedics are on their way.”

“Okay.”

Those big brown eyes shone down on him, making him feel warm and safe.

“You have very beautiful eyes.” The brown eyed boy said, his thumb brushing Jojen’s shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He replied, a bit dazed.

“I’m going to sit you up now, okay?”

Jojen nodded and let him help, thankful for the ability to finally see this boy’s face in full detail and right-side up. “I’m Jojen.”

“Bran.” He offered his hand to shake; Jojen allowed his touch to linger.

“Have you been in this class all along?”

Bran shook his head. “I work in the department office. One of your classmates came to get me when you fell.”

“I’m really glad they did.”

~*~

Bran went with him to the hospital, against the advisement of Jojen’s professor and his own boss. 

He explained it away as though he was worried about him, and that he’d need a ride home, neglecting to bring up that this was his soulmate.

When Jojen asked him why after their little hospital trip, he responded with a shrug. “It seemed inappropriate to bring it up. It’s our thing, you know?”

Jojen nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “Are you hungry?”

Bran shrugged. “Not really, but I’ll take any excuse to spend more time with you.”

“Me neither.” He replied with a nervous shrug.  _ Well, what now? _ “Would you want to find a place to sit, talk?”

Bran nodded. “I know a few good spots on campus.” He said, pulling down the collar of his shirt to scratch at the hidden words scrawled on his collarbone in Jojen’s handwriting.

“What… what does that say?” He asked as they began to walk, Bran leading the way. 

“You mean you don’t remember?”

Jojen shook his head. “I was a little out of it.”

Bran tugged down his collar again, this time low enough fro Jojen to see the marks on his skin plain as day. 

He chuckled nervously. “Wow. Did I really say that?”

Bran nodded with a smirk. “Pretty vulgar shit. But they’re the words I’ve been waiting to hear my whole life.”

Jojen rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow, sorry.”

“Apologize to my parents, man. They freaked out when they saw it.”

“When did yours form?”

“I must have been... ten? Yeah. Just about ten when it showed up. My mother went ballistic, something about ‘my son’s going to marry a hooligan’ or some shit.”

“She won’t be disappointed.”

Bran rolled his eyes. “Yeah right. History majors get in  _ so _ much trouble these days.”

“Oh yeah. Classics club gets  _ crazy _ .”

“Not ask crazy as Medieval club.” Bran said with a wink.

“I thought Medieval club was going out.” Jojen said as Bran finally dragged them off the sidewalk and down to a nearby oak tree. 

“Yeah… Membership isn’t  _ great. _ ” Bran said with a shrug. “The last couple meetings have just been me, my brother, and like, two of his friends.”

Jojen sat on the grass under the tree, Bran dropping down to join him instantly. “What do you guys do with that few members?”

“Mostly we watch bad historical movies and heckle them.”

“Like MST3000?”

Bran grinned. “You like Mystery Science Theatre?”

“I love it! Man, I grew up on it!” Jojen’s hand found Bran’s automatically, without thinking. His chest clenched.

The conversation dissolved gradually into swapping stories about their childhood, their families, any thing else they deemed important. Which was everything, of course. But then again, as the sun set on their shady spot, they realized they had all their lives to catch up.


End file.
